


Valium

by cellstatic



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types, Next to Normal - Kitt/Yorkey
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mental Illness trigger warning, next to normal eddsworld au crossover, paul/patryk parents, paultryk parents, tomedd - Freeform, tomis a stoner whats new my dude
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 21:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8864002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellstatic/pseuds/cellstatic
Summary: Paul's bipolar disorder is getting worse, which makes his family's already hectic life even more chaotic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGERS (spoiler warning!):
> 
> \- Child death  
> \- Major character death (both death triggers I've mentioned are concerning the same person)  
> \- Grieving  
> \- Mental illness  
> \- Anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder, delusionality, panic attacks  
> \- Therapists/doctors  
> \- Hospitals  
> \- Suicide attempts/suicide mentions  
> \- Treatments (electroshock therapy, prescription pills)  
> \- Drug use  
> \- Prescription drugs, marijuana, cocaine mention  
> \- Underage drinking
> 
> If you have any questions about what might and might not be in the story feel free to contact me @take-five-take-a-walk-outside on tumblr!

Patryk was curled up on the couch when Tord finally walked through the front door at three-thirty in the morning. Tord jumped back a little when he saw him, startled, although he should've guessed that he'd still be awake. Still, he attempted small talk with his father. "What are you still doing up?"  
Patryk looked up slowly, in the way that would scare any other normal teenager. The kind of look your parents gave you where you knew you were in trouble. However, Tord was used to it.  
"This is the seventh time this week," Patryk said. "The seventh time this week alone that I've had to sit here and wait for you to come home until the wee hours of the morning."  
Tord sighed, rubbing his temples, but he stayed quiet. Why didn't his dad just lock him out of the house like a normal parent? What was the point in staying up until he came in? Specifically so that he could chastise him like this?  
"You could've /died/," his dad was saying when he tuned back in. "You could've gotten in a car accident. Someone could've shot you when you were walking out of your friend's -- or wherever else you were at."  
"Papa, it's fine," Tord groaned. "Didn't Dad tell you to stop watching the news?"  
Patryk shook his head. "Your father is not the boss of me."  
"Oh, I see."  
"You swore, Tord! You told me that tonight would be the night you came home on time. You /promised/ me."  
"I'm eighteen. Number one, you shouldn't trust a teenager under any circumstances, and number two, I'm an adult--"  
"Don't talk to me with that nonsense." Patryk shook his head. "You're not eighteen. You're seventeen and nine months."  
Tord rolled his eyes.  
"Are you out there doing drugs? Are you on cocaine?"  
"No, I'm not on cocaine."  
Right then, Tord and Patryk could both hear a muffled yell down the stairs from Paul. "Just a minute, P!" Patryk yelled up the stairs quickly, before shooing Tord away. "Go up the back way. Go to bed."  
Tord almost left right then, but he turned around right before he did so. "Does Dad hate me?"  
"He ought to. You're a twat."  
"You can't call your own son a twat."  
"Go."  
Tord ran upstairs right before Paul got down.  
"Are you okay, Patryk? I heard you talking to somebody."  
"N-No, it's fine. It was nobody, just go on back upstairs, okay? I'll be up in a minute."  
"Sure?"  
"I can handle myself, Paul. I'm sure."  
Paul nodded slowly, although Patryk could tell he still didn't believe him. Before he could even say anything more, Pat headed up the stairs, into their shared bedroom.  
Patryk sighed, rubbing his eyes. He wasn't tired, but he could blame that on the new medicine his doctor had prescribed. He had barely slept for a month, but the doctor insisted it would get better as he continued taking it.  
Right as Patryk was about to head upstairs, he heard more footsteps. "Tord, I told you--"  
"Papa?" Edd, Patryk and Paul's adoptive son, peered his head around the banister. Even at sixteen, he was still tiny.  
"Oh, Edward, honey..." There was a silence between them, an acknowledgment of sorts that they had both heard what Patryk had said before he saw that in fact, the child walking down the stairs was Edd and not Tord.  
Patryk pursed his lips, blinked, and then looked Edd up and down. He was holding a stack of books. "It's four in the morning, Edd, what are you doing awake?"  
Edd bit his lip. "I-It's nothing, Papa, I'm just finishing some projects and stuff." He peered down at his books and his empty can of Red Bull clutched in his hand.  
"God, how much work do they give you at school nowadays?" Patryk raised an eyebrow. "There's no way that's all due tomorrow."  
"I-It's not, but I want to get ahead--"  
"Shush." Patryk raised a finger. "Go to bed. Get some sleep. You'll still have time tomorrow."  
Edd opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but instead closed it and nodded. "Okay. Um, goodnight, Papa."  
"Goodnight, Edd."  
Edd walked upstairs slowly, still feeling jittery from the Red Bull. He wasn't supposed to drink so much of it, but there was so much work, and he was getting so much done that he felt morally obligated to stay up until four in the morning -- gosh, was it really that late? -- to work on everything. Although, more than all of the school worries that he had, he worried about his Papa. He hadn't been doing particularly /well/ lately, and even Edd could tell that it wasn't just affecting him but also affecting Dad, who was usually, for the most part, seemingly devoid of any negative emotion.  
In fact, Edd was right. His household was breaking. Even Tord was bothered.  
But the one silent rule they all followed diligently kept it as intact as it could be:  
Don't mention any doubts out loud.  
Don't say that you're worried about Papa. Don't say that that's why you work so hard in school. Don't say that you feel like your adoptive parents are pretending to love you.  
Stay quiet and everything will fix itself.

Mere hours later, the whole house was ready for the day.  
Paul checked his watch and frowned. "i'm gonna be late. Damnit."  
"It's pretty outside," Patryk commented, almost absentmindedly, as he gazed out the window.  
“Mmm, I guess.”  
“Don’t you agree?”  
“It’s cold and rainy, but if it’s pretty to you, then it’s pretty to me, right?”  
“Just makes you wanna get out there and /do/ something, doesn’t it?”  
“Sure, honey.”  
Paul sighed. It was when he got like this, where you couldn’t figure out what he was even talking about, when the magnitude of their situation really struck him. The worst part, though, was when he had to put on a smile and pretend that everything was okay. It was like he, Paul, was the only thing holding everything together.  
But they kept living.

Patryk had already prepared lunches for both of his children before Tord had even made it down the stairs, as always.  
“You’re going to be late,” Patryk said, thrusting a brown paper bag into Tord’s hands. Tord, ever so iconic, rolled his eyes.  
“C’mon, go.”  
Tord walked to the hooks in the living room where he kept his jacket, passing Edd on his way there. “G’morning, Edd.”  
Edd didn’t respond, instead going up to Patryk. “Th-They told us the date for my winter recital, um, do you think you and Dad could come?”  
Patryk’s eyes lit up, and he nodded, smiling. “Of course, sweetie! I’ll put it on the calendar, okay?”  
Edd peered around him to the calendar hanging on the wall. “Um, Papa, the calendar is still on April of last year.”  
Patryk turned to look at the calendar. “Oh. I should get on that, shouldn’t I?” He chuckled softly. “It’s fine. I’ll change it and make sure to put it on there, okay?”  
“Sure, Papa.”  
Patryk handed him a lunch. “Have a good day, okay?”  
Edd nodded silently, before heading for the door, passing Paul on the way out.  
“Good morning, Eddy,” Paul said, a tired look on his face.  
“P-Papa’s really on a roll with the lunches.”  
“Oh, is he?”  
Edd nodded silently, going to grab his coat.  
Meanwhile, Patryk was making sandwiches. Many, sandwiches, in fact. There was bread on the counters, bread on the tables, bread on the floors. He went around almost maniacally, carefully placing meats and condiments on each of them -- ham, cheese, mayonnaise, mustard. Ham, cheese, mayonnaise, mustard.  
Tord and Paul walked in at the same time, although Paul didn’t acknowledge Tord’s presence in the slightest. “Patryk?” Paul spoke first.  
Edd peered over the heads, slowly approaching the kitchen as well. “D-Dad?” He asked slowly, looking to Paul for reassurance. He didn’t get any. All he got was a simple, “I’ll take care of it. You’re going to miss the bus. Go.”  
Tord spoke then. “Papa?”  
“It’s fine,” Patryk said, smiling at them, although it faltered. “I’m just making some sandwiches…!” He looked around himself, almost as if he just realized what he was doing. “U-Uh, on the floor…” He went silent for a moment, before continuing. “It’s fine. Go on, you’re going to miss the bus,” he said, shooing Tord away.  
“Go,” Paul said to Edd, in which Edd left first, followed by Tord. Paul approached Patryk.  
“Honey, are you sure that you’re okay?”  
“It’s fine, Paul, I swear, I just wanted to get ahead on lunches…”  
“I don’t think you want to put a sandwich that’s been on the floor in our child’s lunch, do you?”  
Patryk smiled half-heartedly. “I, uh… Guess I got a little carried away, huh?”  
“A bit.” Paul smiled back in the same half-hearted way.  
“You can go to work--”  
“No. You need to go see your doctor. It’ll be okay, alright? We’ll get past this together.”  
Patryk looked like he was going to protest, but quickly closed his mouth and nodded silently. “I’ll wrap up the sandwiches, okay? Go get in the car.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't much enjoy using the real life last names of Eddsworld characters but I needed to use one for the scenes at the doctors'. I am not writing about the real people, I am writing about the characters. Thanks!
> 
> \--   
> TRIGGERS (these are for the whole story, not just this chapter / spoiler warnings!):  
> \- Child death  
> \- Major character death (both death triggers I've mentioned are concerning the same person)  
> \- Grieving  
> \- Mental illness  
> \- Anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder, delusionality, panic attacks  
> \- Therapists/doctors  
> \- Hospitals  
> \- Suicide attempts/suicide mentions  
> \- Treatments (electroshock therapy, prescription pills)  
> \- Drug use  
> \- Prescription drugs, marijuana, cocaine mention  
> \- Underage drinking

Edd sat at the keyboard in the school practice room, Mozart pouring out of his fingertips. He didn’t much like Mozart. He was an insane man. But then again, wasn’t Edd crazy, too?  
He sighed, closing his eyes, trying to just let everything melt away. Trying to make the music the only thing that existed. It was working well, until he heard the door open.  
“That sounds pretty good.”  
Edd turned slowly, scanning the tall boy at the door. He was about a head taller than Edd, if he had to guess, and had, like, five ear piercings and an eyebrow ring. He was wearing a blue hoodie, and despite that he was at school, he was carrying a flask with him.  
“Um, I have this room reserved for another s-seven minutes, you know…”  
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I just, um… It sounded nice. So I came in.”  
“Oh?”  
“Yeah. I’m Tom.”  
“I’m Edd.”  
“I know.”  
Edd raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?”  
“I’ve gone to school with you since fourth grade.”  
“Really?” Edd cocked his head to the side, confusion in his eyes. “I’ve never seen you before.”  
“I sit behind you in, like, four different classes.”  
“Oh. I guess I’ve just never seen you before.”  
“Why’re you in here so much? You reserve this room before school and after.”  
Edd shrugged, before turning back to the keyboard, using that as a cue to get Tom to leave. It worked, but then Edd turned again.  
“Y-You can, um, stay and listen, if that’s what you’re going to do anyway.”  
Tom grinned, walking in. “Well, then.”

Meanwhile, Paul was curled up in the driver’s seat of the minivan, waiting for Patryk to come out of the big, gray mass that was known as the doctor’s office.  
He sighed, his head flopping onto the back of the seat.  
He could still remember when Patryk was okay. When they were fresh out of college, and they were happy, and they were in love. Now, here they were. It was funny how things could change beyond anything you’d expect.

Patryk was inside the sterile doctor’s office, only half-listening as his doctor explained the specific rules of taking pills. Paul would figure that stuff out. He always did.  
Sometimes it felt like Dr. Mark cared more about Patryk than even Paul did. I mean, he definitely knew more about Patryk than Paul did. 

A week later, Patryk was back in the big grey mass for another adjustment.  
Dr. Mark read off his description under his breath. “Ter Voode, Patryk. Bipolar depressive. Delusional episodes. Sixteen-year history.” He looked up. “So, how has the new medicine been doing?”  
“The anxiety’s sort of loosened up, but I get a lot of headaches and blurry vision. Also, I can’t feel my toes.”  
He nodded, muttering names of new medicine doses under his breath, before handing Patryk a sheet of paper with new dosages written on it.

Edd was also in the same place as the last week, although this time, he wasn’t playing. Tom was.  
As it turned out, Tom was not a fan of classical music. He was much more into jazz, which Edd wasn’t really a fan of. “How do you know if you’ve gotten it right?” Edd asked him one day.  
Tom shrugged. “It’s mostly making shit up.”  
“You’re pretentious.”  
“No, I’m not.” Tom rolled his eyes, still playing. “You’re the one that plays classical. Where’s the room for improvisation?”  
Edd sighed. “It’s an intellectual thing. But, you’re right, Mozart should’ve just smoked some pot and jammed on ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’”  
Tom grinned. “That sounds fun. We should do that.”

“Ter Voode, Patryk. Second adjustment after three weeks.”  
“There’s less delusions, but I’m more depressed. I get nauseous and I’m constipated, and I don’t even really eat that much anymore, but I gained six pounds.”

“Ter Voode, Patryk. Third adjustment after five weeks.”  
“There’s a bit of anxiety and depression, but that comes and goes. I can’t feel my fingers or my toes anymore, and I just sweat for no reason now.”

“You know, I’ve wasted a lot of time I could’ve spent practicing, in here with you.”  
“You know Oscar Peterson?”  
“The jazz artist?”  
“He was classically trained.”  
Edd shrugged. “Beethoven did cocaine.”  
“Miles Davis went to Juilliard.”  
“Mozart wrote poems about farts.”

“I don’t have any desire for sex, now, but I can’t tell if it’s my marriage or the medicine.”  
Dr. Mark raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure it’s the medicine.”  
“Oh, sir, that’s very sweet, but my husband’s out in the car.”

“Ter Voode, Patryk. Seven weeks.”  
“I don’t feel anything. I don’t even feel like myself anymore.”  
Mark pursed his lips, before finally writing on the clipboard.   
“Patient stable.”


	3. Update 06/15/17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lol sorry

I'm back my dudes

Doubt anyone who originally read this is still following but hey, might as well finish and get some new readers I guess right? 

anyway, enjoy this trash, I guess.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is pretty Bad mate lol but if you enjoy Cool

Edd stood in Tom’s room, staring at the huge bong Tom was holding. “Dude,” he said. “Your mom’s, like, in the next room.”  
“It’s fiiine,” Tom replied, shrugging him off. “She’s in, like, denial or something. I don’t get it, but it’s totally convenient for me.”   
Tom and Edd had been hanging out for around a month at this point, and while this wasn’t the first time Edd had seen Tom stoned, or for that matter, seen Tom get stoned in his own house, it was still surprising to see him get stoned while his mother was home. But then again, what had Edd really expected?  
Tom turned to Edd then, holding the bong out to him, offering it. Edd blinked, looking from the strange glass instrument to Tom and back. “Come on, man. It’s therapeutic.”   
Edd rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Sorry, I forgot. It’s /medical/ marijuana to treat your ADD.”   
Tom hadn’t heard him, though, because he was too busy taking another hit. “Yeah, totally… Wait, what did you say?”  
“I have a rule set for myself that I won’t put anything into my mouth that is on fire.”  
“That’s a good rule, I guess…?”  
There was a silence then, Tom just looking at the wall opposite him as if it was interesting, and Edd desperately trying to find a way to make this situation less awkward than it already was.   
Suddenly, Tom turned to Edd, leaning in, trying to kiss him. Edd jumped, not expecting it, backing away onto Tom’s bed, his eyes wide.  
It wasn’t that he was particularly opposed kissing Tom, it was just… Sudden. And he wasn’t prepared. If he was going to kiss Tom, he needed to be prepared. And what would his parents think? Was he even allowed to be dating?   
“Look,” Edd spoke quickly. “I can’t do this. Not right now. I’m like, one fuckup away from disaster already.”   
Tom blinked, knitting his brows. “Your life’s not a disaster. The environment is a disaster… /Sprint/ is a disaster.”  
“You’re stoned,” Edd replied in a huff.  
“Dude, look around. Our planet is poison. The oceans are polluted, the air is polluted… All around you, and beneath you, and above you, is polluted.”  
Edd was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable. “Um, Tom, that’s, uh, definitely true and I totally care…?” He couldn’t tell if Tom was joking or not, and Edd’s sarcasm began to come off as more of a question than a statement.  
“I’m trying to tell you that I love you,” Tom replied.   
“What?”  
“The world is literally at war. All we hear about on the news is death and disease. We’re dancing on the edge of fucking destruction. Earth is like, melting, too?”  
“This is a really fucked up seduction.”   
“The planet is basically broken and there’s no way to fix it, right? But I think one thing is working.”  
“What?”  
“I might be perfect for you.” He replied.  
This all made absolutely no sense to Edd, but at the same time, he got a vague sense of what Tom was trying to convey in his high state.  
“I mean, yeah, I’m lazy, and I don’t have many friends, and I’m kind of a stoner. But I could make myself perfect for you, right? Somehow?”  
Tom stood up then, obviously captivated by a new ~poetic~ thought he had. He was now transitioning from the confused, slurring-words part of being high, to the part where you speak only in metaphors, like a really bad poem.   
“You could square all of the sharp corners, and I could straighten all the curves in our life.”  
Edd still didn’t know what to think. He felt an odd sense of… Attraction to this strange, tall stoner kid who was, he guessed, in love with him? Still though, Tom had some nerve.  
Then again, Edd was all nerves.  
“Even if everything on the Earth turns to crap,” Tom said, turning around, looking Edd in the eye again. “We could be the one thing in this world that won’t hurt.”  
Edd now realized he was blushing, standing there with Tom staring into his eyes. His eyes were so dark brown, they were almost black.   
“Look,” Tom said, grabbing Edd’s hand. “I can’t fix what’s fucked up. But I can certainly be perfect for you.”  
Edd replied, almost a whisper. “And I could be perfect for you.”  
Their faces became closer and closer to each other, until finally, their lips touched.   
It was as if ever since Edd had met Tom he had liked him, but it took him until now to finally realize it. This was the thing he felt when Tom sat closer than normal to him on the piano bench. This was what made Edd stare at Tom for longer than he should’ve. This was it.   
And for once, he was happy.


End file.
